Blackout
by Flagg1991
Summary: Sequel to Cruel Summer. Lincoln visits Nikki in the city during a black out.
1. Lights Out

**This could, theoretically, be posted as a oneshot but I don't like posting stories this long (14,808 words) in a single go (I also don't feel like editing them in a single go), so I broke it into three chapters. **

You ever see that Batman show _The Bold and the Brave? _That was Nikki.

Other people were super worried about what others thought of them. _I better not do X, Rando #372 might think I'm a loser, waaaah_. Not her. She straight didn't care. Like...if you got something to say, come say it with the hands, b.

Not really, though. I can fight but I'm not trying to.

Anyway, a lot of people let others' perceptions of them dictate how they lived, what they did, and the kinds of things they liked. Pfft, lame. Nikki did her and if someone didn't like it, oh well.

Now, that's not to say she was fixed and inflexible. Her aunt Kylie, who was legit only a few years older than her btw, was always posting those Marilyn Monrone things on Facebook. You know..._if you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best_. Okay, Nikki _kind _of agreed with that, but only up to a point. Life is about change and personal growth, and that kind of mindset stunts those things. _Oh, I'm perfect, I don't need to change. I don't have a problem, man, YOU have a problem. _We're all human and we all have bad traits. An adult tries to identify their flaws and improve, especially if they negatively impact other people. If you don't believe you have to change _anything _about yourself, even your worst faults, then sorry, dude, you're mad immature. Her friend Ronnie Anne was kind of like that. Or used to be. She didn't know anymore. RA made this new friend named Sid and suddenly, Nikki didn't see much of her anymore. Ngl, that kind of hurt. Why did _I _get left behind? Is there something wrong with me? I can change tho.

Whatever.

Where were we? Oh, yeah. She didn't think she was perfect and she didn't try to justify behavior that hurt other people, she just did her own thing. She liked what she liked and lived as free as a young girl from the projects can live. She wasn't shy, she wasn't self-conscious, and she sure as hell wasn't going to dress a certain way or dig a certain thing to please anyone else.

Then, on August 25, Lincoln texted her.

_I'm coming 2 the citee on Tuesday._

*Record scratch*

Uh-oh.

Alright, it didn't happen that fast. He texted to say he was taking a bus in from Royal Woods and wanted to know if she could hang with him for the day. Well, duh, of course she could. She wasn't all that, y'know, mushy or anything, but she loved Lincoln full stop, and every day since they parted at Camp Rolling Hills (yo, has it really only been a month?), she missed him with the deep, stomach turning intensity of a gunshot victim bleeding out in the ER. Without him, life was duller, not as sweet, and everything was kinda blah. Oh, yeah, video games. I'd rather be with Lincoln. Oh, rad, ice cream truck. Too bad Lincoln's not here to share this with me.

In essence, everything came back to him, and not having him around was like being in prison: Sad, lonely, and gay. So, so gay.

Not it a homophobic way tho. She was chill with gays.

That's not really the point, but...I'm getting off track here. Lincoln texted to say he was coming, and Nikki perked up like cokehead getting her fix delivered right to her bloodstream. Suh-WEET. She dropped her phone on the nightstand and got up...and that's when something occurred to her.

She lived in a dump.

Her building, a high rise tenament overlooking a park full of junkies, hookers, and used needles, was kind of like one of those places you saw in movies about Harlem. The elevator was always broken down, the stairwell was littered with cigarette butts, empty beer cans, condom wrappers, and passed out winos, and graffiti covered pretty much every surface. Her apartment was, uh, how do I put this nicely? A rat's nest. A clean rat's nest, but a rat's nest nevertheless. The linoleum in the closet-sized kitchen was cracked and always sticky no matter how many times you mopped it; big brown water stains splotched the ceiling; the carpet in the living room was matted with decades worth of spills; and the scent of mildew lingered on the air like a ghost. Spray all you want, y'all, I'm here to _stay_.

Her mom kept the place clean, but the neighbors weren't as hygienic, and sometimes...things got through cracks in the walls.

Things like roaches.

Not often, but, you know, every once in a while, she'd snap the bathroom light on and catch one scurrying across the tiles, or she'd find one dead in the cabinet, lying on its back like a turtle. Every other blue moon...one would get in her bed and she'd feel its hairy little legs brushing her skin. Wanna see a girl take off like a rocket and smash her head through the ceiling cartoon style? Toss a roach in her bed. Trust me.

It works.

Was she really going to bring Lincoln in here?

Oh, hell no. Just the thought made her blush, and that was before you threw her parents into the mix. Okay, first, there was her mom. She was a strong, caring woman whose only major vice was smoking cigarettes. Well...that and having the fashion sense of a trashy white woman. In the summer, she wore shorts that showed off the celulose on the backs of her legs and tank tops that didn't fully cover her pudgy stomach. She wore her unruly blonde hair up in a messy bun-thing, yelled at you from the couch when she wanted something (instead of texting like a normal person), and snorted when she laughed.

Second was Daryl, her mom's boyfriend They'd been together for, like, six years, and while Nikki would never be comfortable calling him 'Dad', he kinda was. Chillest dude ever, supportive, all that, but get this: He was in his forties and dressed like he was seventeen. Wife beaters, sideways snapbacks, gold chains, saggin' ass jeans, Tall-Ts that reached his ankles. She was kind of embarrassed for anyone to see her with him sometimes, but Lincoln? Lincoln wasn't a rando, his opinion actually mattered, and once he got a load of all _this_, well…

Not a huge deal, though! She just wouldn't bring him here. Problem solved.

On the morning of August 28, she rolled out of bed at seven. Bright sunshine screamed through the window over her dresser and the fan on her nightstand pushed stagnant air in her face. This building was, like, a hundred years old, and everything in it sucked. The AC system kept it marginally cooler than and oven and the plumbing...the plumbing was wack - really, you had to flush one wad of TP at a time, otherwise your crapper would back up. If you were _really _unlucky, the pipes would burst. The super, this old black dude named Thorogood, absolutely _freaked _when he had to do any work, and he'd act like a real jerk while he fixed everything. _Y'all white motherfuckas stoppin' yo shit up, _he'd grumble as he bent over the commode, _can't even take a dump without fuckin me over. Want me to pick some cotton too? _

Yo, he was funny tho. Last winter, he slipped on the ice outside and lay there like a dead roach, kicking his legs and screaming at the top of his lungs. _Y'all white motherfuckas got me AGAIN!_

Shoveling and dumping salt on the sidewalk was _his _job, but okay. He really didn't like white people.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she yawned, stretched, and smacked her lips together, wincing at the rancid taste of morning breath. Owing to the heat, she wore only a pair of red panties and a spaghetti strap tank top with a picture of a cloud across the chest, its eyes closed and Zs drifting from its open mouth. Before leaving her room, she'd put on lounge pants because Daryl didn't wanna see her in her underwear anymore than she wanted to see him in his.

There was just a _tiny_ little problem.

Where are they?

Casting about the room, Nikki grimaced. Remember that stuff about knowing your flaws and changing? One of Nikki's worst habits was being a slob. Clothes, shoes, change that fell out of her jeans pocket three days ago, stuffed animals, and other junk carpeted the floor. Yesterday's bra (or was it the day before yesterday's?) was draped over the open closet door, where it landed when she flung it off, and her dirty clothes hamper lay on its side like a wounded animal, its contents heaped in front of it.

She blew of puff of air that stirred her bangs. Great.

Ten minutes later, after looking _everywhere_, she found her pants between the wall and the dresser. Uh, how did they get _here_?

The world may never know.

Slipping them on, she went into the hall. Hall might be too strong a word. Basically, you open her door and right across from it is her mom's room, and immediately to the left is the bathroom. One step to the right and you're in the living room. Picture a landing on a flight of stairs and bam, you got it.

In the bathroom, she shut the door, stood in front of the sink, and studied her reflection in the mirror. A thick lock of honey wheat hair covered one eye and strands stuck wildly out on top, making her look like a troll doll. She brushed her teeth, gargled with mouthwash, then jumped in the shower. The water pressure was crap and you had to get directly underneath the head to get wet. Don't lather up too much or it'll take you forever to get it all off. She paid special attention to the V of her sex, since she and Lincoln were gonna do _something_ today; fuck him while you got him, sister.

Done, she got out, toweled off, and, naked, brushed her hair in front of the mirror. She was almost finished when she spied something on her left breast, right next to the areola. Yo, is that a pimple? She prodded it and pain spread out across her boob. Ouch. I didn't even know you could get these there! She squinted at her face and looked for more, but she was clear, at least for now. Being a girl in that special time of life known as puberty, she was always getting zits on her cheeks and nose. Last week, she had one _inside _her nostril. Dunno how it got there, but damn, it hurt.

Hanging the towel back up, she hurriedly dressed, returned to her room, and pulled on a white T-shirt and a pair of not-exactly-clean jeans. She put her socks and shoes on, then checked her phone.

She had a text.

From Lincoln.

_Be there in an hour. _

Damn, he left early.

Not surprising. He had to be on the six'o'clock bus home, so it made sense that he would try and get here as soon as possible. That way they had more time together.

Ready for Nikkicoln time, she got up and crossed into the living room. Her mom rattled around the kitchen, the sounds and smells of breakfast heavy in the heated air, and Daryl sat on the couch with one arm draped over the back. On TV, a weatherman stood before a map of the region. "_It's gonna be a scorcher, folks, 104 degree heat index with no relief in sight. You might even - "_

The screen flickered, and a strange electrical whine filled the world. Suddenly, the TV and the window AC unit both went out with a hum.

"Seriously?" Daryl cried and threw his arms out.

"Did we just lose power?" Mom asked from the stove.

Muttering to himself, Daryl got up and shuffled over to the air conditioner. Without it, the apartment was already beginning to roast.

"I'm gonna head out," Nikki said, "I'll be back later."

Mom glanced at her, face already flushed and sweaty. Steam rose from a skillet and hazed her features. "Where?"

"To hang with Casey and Shameer."

"You don't want breakfast?"

In the living room, Daryl knelt next to the A/C and slapped it. "Please work," he moaned. It was all he could do.

Nikki shook her head. "Nah, I'm good."

"Alright," Mom sighed. "Love you."

"Love you too."

In the hall, Nikki started toward the stairs. People were coming out of their apartments like the traumatized survivors of a great calamity. "What happened to the power?" a woman cried. "It's too hot for this!"

Yeah, this heat _kiinda_ put a damper on her plans. She and Lincoln were gonna melt after five minutes. She could already hear him now. _Can we go back to your house?_

_NO! _

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she paused. Two dozen people clambered at the door to Throgood's office, putting her in mind of zombies from one of those old movies. They all talked over each other in a chattering din of voices from which she could make out only the occasional wood. _Power. Hot. Nigga best get his ass up. _

Suddenly, the door whipped open and Throgood came out with a battered tool box in one hand, his face pinched and sour. Roughly 5'6 with a pot belly and a shock of gray hair, Thorogood, in his gray janitor-like coveralls, resembled a sausage stuffed into a case, the fabric stretched and bulging. "What'd y'all white motherfuckas do now?" he demanded of the all black congregation.

"Get yo ass in the basement and fix my power," a fat woman with a shaved head ordered. She waved one arm, and the fat hanging from her bones jiggled like jello. "Or white people gon' be the least of _yo _problems."

A tall, lanky man about twenty with dreads and a goatee glared at Thorogood. "Yo, homie, this shit best be straight before _The Brash and the Bountiful _come on. I ain't tryna miss my stories."

"Back the hell up and get out my way, nigga," Throgood said and shoulder checked him as he passed. Dude looked like he was about to go after him, but held himself back.

Pushing through the crowd, Nikki went out the main doors and down the concrete steps leading to the sidewalk. An old black man sat on one and smoked a cigarette, and a white guy in rags dug through the metal trash can sitting next to the bus shelter. The dry, arid heat swallowed her like a hungry beast, and sweat instantly burst from her pores. Baking sunshine singed the exposed flesh of her arms and neck, and the air squeezed rudely from her lungs.

It was like standing in the heart of a raging fire as stalks of flames enveloped your entire body, burning your skin from your bones and crisping your skeleton black.

If this wasn't Lincoln we were talking about, she'd turn around and go back inside, but it was, so she squared up.

Cars moved along the street at a crawl, and without warning, the sound of breaking glass rent the day, making Nikki jump. She whipped her head north, and there, in the intersection, a taxi kissed the passenger door of a Camry in a rough T. Traffic came to a halt, and horns started blaring.

That's when she noticed it.

The lights dangling above the intersection were dark.

Oh. So...I guess _everyone _lost power.

Damn.

The drivers got out of their cars to survey the damage. Impatient motorists tried to get through, and in moments, the crossroads was hopeless snarl. A city bus blocked one street, and a box van another. People came out of shops along the sidewalk to look, and someone walking by said into their cell phone that all of Center Ave was dark.

Wow.

That sucks.

Anyway, I have a date, so...cya.

Ducking left, she followed the sidewalk past an overgrown lot strewn with trash. Traffic was at a standstill, horns honking and people leaning out their windows to yell scattershot obscenities at whatever may or may not be causing the jam. At the corner store, an Indian man stood outside the door with his arms sternly crossed. The inside was a pit of shadows. People streamed out of restaurants, barber shops, and the check cashing place, their heads turning left and right as if in search of danger. Each of the storefronts she passed was dark, and some were already shuttered with roll top security gates. Across the vehicle choked thoroughfare, a group of black men milled in front of a supermarket while a Hispanic man stood in front of them and gestured, telling them, probably, that he was closed.

Jeez, how much of the city lost power? She turned in a circle as though an answer would present itself, but none did. The cacophony of horns, swelling sirens, and distant shouts told her _a lot_.

You know...I'm starting to think today's not gonna pan out so well.

As if on cue, glass exploded.

Across the street, the black men bolted from the market, their arms loaded with goods. The Hispanic man sat on the ground, looking dazed and rubbing his head. Another man, this one white, crawled through the shattered window of an adjacent shop, and a group of people loafing on the sidewalk casually joined in.

Annnnd there's the looting.

Yep.

Today's gonna blow.

She quickened her step and didn't look back. At an intersection, traffic was stalled bumper-to-bumper, and she had to squeeze through a gap between a Toyota and a FedEx truck to get by. The buildings here were taller and cast the sidewalk in shadows, and Nikki was grateful to have the sun off her. To her right, a towering Art Deco skyscraper loomed over the street, its ledges and spires looking like something straight out of Gotham City.

Hey, I like Batman, wanna fight about it?

The courtyard surrounding it was filled with office workers displaced by the blackout. Some talked into cellphones while others walked in restless circles, like they had no clue what to do with themselves. A block up, cross traffic was still moving, but most of Center was blocked.

She cut across the street and walked through Coates Park, a narrow strip of trees, statues, and benches wedged between Center and 145th Street. She met a few people as she made her way through: A man on a bench eating Doritos, a woman walking her dog, and a black guy sitting against a tree and listening to a boombox. Instead of music, however, it played news.

"_...the city is without power. They're saying a transformer blew somewhere, but we haven't gotten official corroboration on that. Again, right now, much of the city has no power and a good portion of the surrounding neighborhoods are also in the dark. The temperature is already in excess of one hundred degrees, so this makes for a potentially dangerous situation for the very old and the very young. And, really, for everyone else too."_

Somewhere, glass broke, and sirens shrieked, getting closer, closer, then winking out. Nikki swore she heard _Freeze, police!_

*Dejected sigh*

Of all the days for Detroit to finally fall apart, it had to be the _one _day Lincoln was going to be here. Why not have the sun blow up too? Yo, if you really wanna mess this up, bring the dead back to life. Nothing ruins a day quite like flesh eating zombies. Bonus points if they're radioactive.

She was on 145th Street now. Crumbling brownstones with wide front stoops and bay windows pressed against shaded sidewalks. Skyscrapers lifted into the sky both behind her and off to her left. The blinking red light on top of the Mutual Bank building was out and none of the pedwalk signs of traffic lights she passed were operative.

The bus station was situated between the river and a network of interstate overpasses and off ramps. The neighborhood around it was scummy on the best of days, but now it was a warzone. People ran in and out of looted storefronts, crashed cars blocked the streets, and debris, including stolen merchandise, littered the sidewalks. A group of black men hung out around a car in a McDonald's parking lot and talked as, across the street, a pack of looters converged on a nail salon. Nikki reached the platform and leaned against the wall, the sounds of chaos wafting over her.

I was really hoping to impress Lincoln and...my city went crazy. Mom and Daryl are one thing, but this is just stupid. He's gonna take one look at this and dip.

Oh well. Imma just play it off like this always happens.

Then what?

Well, uh…

Good question. When she decided to keep Lincoln away from her house, there wasn't a literal riot going on...and it wasn't a thousand degrees outside. The power was out so they couldn't chill at an arcade, people were acting a fool, so hanging outside probably wasn't smart.

She scanned one of the off ramps, and froze when she spotted a Greyhound. Well, it's not so bad, at least no one -

A man standing in the street hurled a bottle through the broken window of a computer repair shop. _WHUMP! _Orange light flickered on shards of glass and the swift, hungry crackle of flames found her ears.

\- has started any fires.

She hung her head.

The bus turned onto the L-shaped road servicing the station and ambled along like a happy character in a children's cartoon, completely oblivious to the apocalypse raging around it. It pulled to the platform and came to a rolling stop, air brakes hissing. Nikki stood up straight and took a deep breath. Armageddon or not, seeing Lincoln was the most important thing in the world right now. They could figure everything else out later.

A second passed, then the accordion doors opened. The first person off was an old woman in a sunhat who moved with the exaggerated care of one picking their way across ice. The second was a teenage girl with lime green hair and a nose ring (lesbian, SJW, or both?). Nikki's heart raced and anticipation ballooned inside of her. Come on, come on, I've been waiting a month for this!

Lincoln appeared and came down the steps, and a giddy smile burst across Nikki's face. She pushed away from the wall and met him halfway, the twinkle in his eye making her feel warm all over, the blackout, the looting, and everything else totally forgotten. "Hey, dandruff head," she said.

"Hey," he said.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, bent down, and kissed him, the taste of his mouth like ambrosia after so long away. He gripped her hips and kissed back, their tongues grappling for dominance. The heat of his hands soaking through the fabric of her shirt became too much, and her knees went weak, making her stumble. Their lips broke, and Lincoln smirked up at her. "Did you feel the ground move, too?"

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

Then they both broke out laughing. "Shut up, dork, the ground didn't move," she said, "we did have an epic earthquake last week, though. Killed millions of people."

Lincoln snorted. "Yeah, I see that."

He turned his head, then tensed at what he saw. The repair store was completely engulfed in flames now, long stalks curling up and over the roof. Someone threw a trash can through the window of a clothing store, and people ran aimlessly back and forth with arm loads of stolen stuff. A dozen different sirens mingled in the super heated air, and somewhere very far away, a gunshot rang out.

"Holy shit," Lincoln cried and pulled away from her. "What's going on?"

Nikki smiled sheepishly and shrugged her shoulders. "Welcome to the city?"

Lincoln looked from her to the carnage and back again, jaw slack and eyes wide. Sheesh, you'd think he'd never seen a full scale riot before.

His mouth impotently opened and closed as he grasped for words. "W-What's happening?"

Alright, now was bluff time. Let's get this over with as painlessly as possible. "Eh, we lost power," she said, "brownout, blackout, something like that. You wanna grab something to eat?"

Lincoln gaped. "So...your power's out and everyone _riots _over it?"

"Oh, it's not a riot," she dismissed, "it's just a little looting, it's nothing."

"THAT BUILDING'S ON FIRE!"

Nikki rolled her eyes. "Calm down, dude, fires happen."

A group of black men strutted along the sidewalk, each one dressed in a uniform of white T-shirts and red bandanas tied around their foreheads. A battered Oldsmobile Cutlass turned off a hilly side street, tires squealing, and a black man in a black tank top leaned out the passenger window. He wore a blue bandanna.

And held duel Tech 9s in his hands.

"Break yo'self, fool!"

The Bloods froze. "Aw, shit!" one yelled. The Crip opened fire, and they scattered for cover, ducking behind cars and in alleyways; one dove into a dumpster and pulled the lid closed after

him.

Lincoln and Nikki both cried out and dropped to their stomachs where they desperately clung to one another like children in front of a scary movie. Nikki was no stranger to the occasional gunshot, but open gang warfare was something even Detroit didn't see everyday.

Bystanders screamed and scrambled to get out of the way. The black guys in the Mickey D's parking lot dove, crouched, and crawled under their car; one sheltered behind the front end and cried like a baby, hugging himself and rocking back and forth, his sounds of misery blubbering and pathetic.

Across the street, bullets pelted the brick facade of a liquor store, kicking up puffs of dust, and the Cutlass took off. The Blood came out of hiding and gave chase, shooting with handguns; one, who'd wrapped his bandana around his face, wielded a sawed off bolt action rifle. The car took a sharp left onto Center and disappeared, and the Bloods gave up.

Nikki's heart slammed in her chest and when she pushed herself up, she realized she was shaking. Lincoln's face was milk white and his eyes haunted, like those of a combat veteran shot in the shoulder and held prisoner in a bamboo cage for eight months.

Whoa, that was a weird analogy.

"Alright, fine," she said, "there's a riot going on, okay?"

Lincoln caught his breath. "You don't say."

"Just...ignore it. I've been waiting for this for a month and there's no way I'm letting some punk ass civil unrest get between me and you."

"It's not the civil unrest I'm worried about," Lincoln snapped, "it's the gunfire!"

Nikki took a deep breath. "We'll be fine."

Another report rang out, and they both jumped.

"But we probably should get out of here."

Taking Lincoln's hand, she dragged him to his feet and looked around. The gangstas weren't in sight, but the fire had spread to the adjoining buildings and the whole block was in danger of going up. Most of the looters had fled, and all that remained of them was discarded merchandise they either couldn't carry or realized they didn't want. The high, mournful cry of an approaching fire engine sounded from the north, and a helicopter appeared overhead, the _whup-whup-whup _of its blades overlaying the sound of fire.

Okay, where to? As much as she did _not _want to bring Lincoln home, she also didn't want to stay out in the open. The electricity had been out for just over an hour and already all hell had broken loose; it was bound to get worse.

She heaved a defeated sigh. All I wanted to do was hide my pigsty of a home from my boyfriend, but noooo, the universe had to get involved. _Oh, embarrassed, Nikki? BOOM, blackout, have fun! _She recalled the state of her room that morning and cringed. She doubted Lincoln would break up with her over it, but, yeah, he probably wouldn't be impressed, and that might get the ball rolling toward a break up or something.

Then there was Mom and Daryl. Daryl was probably already in his underwear, hairy fat rolls glistening with sweat. Shiver. She could see Mom now, in her bra and panties, fanning herself with a TV Guide. The weatherman said it was gonna 104 degrees today...out here. In there, with literally no A/C, it'd be, like, 1,104.

Still better than getting shot in the face, though.

"Come on," she said, "we're going back to my place."


	2. Hot in the City

The sun sat high in the dusty blue heavens, its light bathing the darkened city like divine judgement. Nikki stopped, dragged the back of her hand across her forehead, and let of a deep breath, Next to her, Lincoln shuffled to a halt and doubled over like a wilted flower. His face was the color of blood and dark patches spread out from his underarms.

They'd been walking for what felt like forever but was probably only fifteen or twenty minutes. Behind them, the terrain sloped down toward the bus station and the river beyond. Thick black smoke poured into the sky, and past the water, haze shrouded South Detroit roasted in the furnace glow. Aside from the occasional siren, honking horn, or smashing window off to their right, a deep, preternatural hush lay over the city like a wet blanket, muffling and absorbing all sounds.

"Are we almost there?" Lincoln panted

Uh..she didn't know. She was kind of too busy burning to death to keep track of where they were or what they were doing. She squinted her eyes against the glare and looked around. On the left, tumbledown row houses crowded cracked ribbons of sidewalk. On the right, trees pressed close, their leaves dying and brown. In the distance, skyscrapers stood like headstones for giants. "This way," she said. She looked both ways and crossed the street, Lincoln hurrying to catch up.

"How much further?" he asked.

Nikki thought. Owing to the heat, she was fried and making her brain work took a few. "About a mile."

Lincoln threw his head back and blew a long suffering sigh. "Fuck this."

"Relax, Snowy," she said, "we're fine. There's a bench up here. We can sit down."

A concrete walking path wound between the trees, a few of which overhung the trail and cast it in blessed shade. Nikki listened for sounds of pandemonium, but didn't hear any, save for sirens back near the river and the honking of horns on Central. She sniffed deeply and crinkled her nose at the acrid scent of fire. The path curved genty to the right, and a stone bench appeared on one side. Oh, thank God. Nikki trudged over and sank onto it with a weary groan. Lincoln dropped beside her and hung his head. "Why is it so hot?" he asked abjectly, a genuine note of perplexion in his voice.

Nikki brushed her sweaty bangs out of her eyes and panted for air. "What are you talking about?" she croaked. "This is cold for the city. Almost wish I brought my jacket."

"You're full of it," he moaned.

Hey, you either laugh or you cry, and right now, she didn't feel like crying.

Much.

What she really wanted was a drink. Were all of the stores of Central closed? If so, that left her pretty well screwed. Wait, there _was _a vending machine in...aaaand you need power to run a vending machine. Damn.

Funny, isn't it? You take something for granted so much that when it's gone, you forget just how important it is. Without juice, there was no TV, air conditioning, cold drinks, internet, video games, cell phone charging...nothing. Power is one of those foundational bedrock things we build everything on top of, and as soon as it goes, we lose it _all_.

"I'm thirsty," Lincoln said.

"Yeah, me too," Nikki said. Her mouth felt warm and fuzzy and her throat tacky. She tried to work up enough spit to swallow, but just didn't have it.

An idea struck her. "Come on," she said and got up.

Lincoln sighed. "I don't wanna move. It's too hot."

"Don't be a baby."

Sucking a deep breath, Lincoln got wearily to his feet and followed. A hundred feet from the bench, the path filtered out into a wide commons, at the center of which was a large stone fountain with a sculpted cherub in the middle. Normally, water shot from the top of its head, but with the power off, it didn't. To her left, flashes of the buildings along Central peeked through the trees like peeping toms vying for a glimpse of boobie. A couple pigeons, gray with white chests, watched from a bench as she crossed to the font and leaned over. The water inside wasn't clean but it wasn't filthy either. A leaf floated across the surface, dirt spackled the bottom, and a few dead bugs bobbed in the swell. Yeah, normally she'd turn her nose up at this stuff (ew, dude, really?), but right now, she dgaf.

She cupped her hands together, dipped them in, then brought them to her lips. The water was cold and good. She took two more drinks before parking her butt on the stone lip. Lincoln stared at her in a mixture of horror and longing. She flashed a sheepishly smile. "It's...not bad," she offered.

He hesitated, then came forward and looked down at it. "There's a dead mosquito _right _there."

"Yeah? You know why it died? Because it was too good to drink out of the fountain. His girlfriend tried to tell him, but noooo, precious baby boy wouldn't do it."

Lincoln lifted his brows. "I have ten sisters. Peer pressure doesn't work on me."

Scooping her hand once more into the water, Nikki splashed him. Water sprinkled his face and the front of his shirt, making his recoil. Crossing her eyes, she curled one hand to her chest and stuck out her tongue. "Peer pressure doesn't work on meeeee."

Lincoln's brow knitted, and Nikki smirked. "Drink the water, Snow cap, everyone's doing it."

He fixed her with a faux glare...then lunged at her. Nikki let out a squeal and threw her arms up to defend herself. His grabbed her wrists and pushed, but she hooked her legs over the ledge. "Help!" she laughed. "Rape!"

Lincoln shoved harder. "Go in," he grunted.

"No!"

She pushed back, and her leg slipped; her heart jumped into her throat and she started to fall. In either an attempt to save herself or avenge herself, she shot out her hands and snatched Lincoln's shirt, dragging him in with her. He gasped, and together, they splashed into the fountain. The water closed over Nikki's face, and her grasp loosened, allowing Lincoln to pull away. Jamming her elbows against the bottom, she drew herself to a sitting position; wet hair plastered her eyes and water lapped at her chest. Firmly on her butt, it stopped just below her breasts. Wow, this thing's deeper than it looks.

Lincoln sat with his back against the stonework and stared down at the rippling surface as though contemplating his life choices. Finally, he cupped his hands, lifted them to his mouth, and slurped.

"Now was that so hard?" Nikki asked.

He grimaced. "I think I swallowed a tarantula."

"Protein, dude, protein."

"More like poison."

"Eh, you'll be fine." She leaned back and allowed herself to float. Looking into the sky, where dusty contrails made white cross patterns on dazzling blue, she said, "This isn't so bad."

Lincoln nodded. "No, it's not. But I have the strangest sense of deja -"

"Now that's what I'm talking about!"

They both looked up just as a black guy stripped off his shirt and climbed in. A white guy in basketball shorts joined, and in seconds, the fountain was surrounded by two dozen people all fighting to get in. Nikki sat up and scurried out of the way of a fat man in swim trunks, and Lincoln cried out when a black girl about five jumped over the ledge and landed hard on his lap. A foot kicked Nikki in the butt, and with a tiny _eep_, she scrambled over the side and landed on the ground. Lincoln got out, dropped to one knee, and fought to catch his breath, wounded somewhere _really _sensitive by the looks of it.

"CANNONBALL!" someone yelled.

_SPLASH! _

Nikki rolled onto her back and sat up. The fountain was clogged with people now, packed so tight there wasn't an inch between them. Kids chased each other around the commons with squirt guns and a fat white woman in a sunhat and a one piece bathing suit reclined on one of the benches like she was at the beach.

Speaking of beach, two groups of white boys batted a beach ball back and forth, one diving to the side to hit it. "Nice hit, bro!" one of his buddies called in an annoying YOLO accent.

Lincoln staggered to his feet and limped over, one hand cradling his balls. "Ow, my fucking nuts," he breathed.

Standing, Nikki brushed herself off and stared forlornly at the fountain. Man...really?

"I _knew _I saw this before," Lincoln said. "I got a personal pool one time and my sisters did the same shit. I didn't even get to use it."

Nikki sighed. "Yeah, well, it happened again." She turned to him and frowned. "You alright?"

He nodded. "That girl landed on my nads."

"Want me to check them for damage?" she asked playfully. They were walking toward Central now, their shoes leaving dark footprints in their wake.

"Not right now," he said huskily, "they hurt."

Poor Lincoln. She circled one arm around his shoulders and drew him to her side like a mother hen taking her baby under its wing. "I'll be real gentle," she promised.

"Later," he said.

"I'mma hold you to that."

They came to the sidewalk flanking Central. The street stood empty save for trash and broken glass, and kids played in jets of water shooting from open fire hydrants. The traffic lights suspended above the intersection of Central and Percy Priest Drive remained dark. Down the street, most of the traffic had been cleared save for a few wrecked cars left in the middle of the road like deadwood. Way in the distance, blue lights flashed, and Nikki squinted. "Looks like all the looting's over with."

Gunfire rattled in the west, and she and Lincoln both ducked. And Nikki sucks her foot yet again. I really gotta stop gotta opening my mouth.

"Let's go."

They started down the sidewalk, glass crunching underfoot. Many of the shops up and down Central had been spared, but here and there gaping windows bore silent testament to the first flurry of lawlessness. Store owners swept shards of broken glass from the sidewalk while others carried fallen wares back inside. A Korean man stood outside an Asian market with his hands clasped in front of him. As they walked by, Nikki noted he was holding a Glock.

Several dozen side streets branch off of Central between the river and Paradise Heights, where Nikki lived. The farther west you went, the better the neighborhoods became until you hit Parkridge and Lakecrest, where the richies live. The farther east you go, the worse they become. Each time they passed a street, Nikki glanced east and caught flashes of chaos: Roving gangs looting a gas station here, firefighters under police protection battling a blaze there. Smoke hung heavy in the air, burning Nikki's eyes and nose, and gunshots echoed through the city, their locations impossible to determine.

Two blocks from Nikki's building, with it literally in sight, they found the source of the blue lights: Yellow sawhorses with POLICE stenciled on the front blocked the street. Two police cars were parked behind them nose to nose, and a half dozen cops loafed around, one bent over the front end of one of the cruisers and studying a map and another standing next to the open driver door and talking into a CB. One of the cops saw them and waved them back. "Street's closed!" he called.

Wait, what?

"Closed?" Nikki asked dumbly. "Really?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But I live right there," she said and gestured to the building.

The cop shook his head. "The road is closed. You have to get back."

Nikki slumped her shoulders. Seriously? What was that she said earlier about today not panning out? "Come on, you can't let me past to go right there?"

"No, ma'am."

Okay, now she was starting to get pissed. First, it was 114 degrees, second, the power was out, third...she couldn't even go home? This was some bullshit. "Why?" she demanded.

Lincoln flicked his eyes nervously between her and the cop.

"Please get back," the cop said.

Hot anger rose in Nikki's chest, and her hands closed into fists. She was hot, sweaty, tired, a _little _scared, and somewhere deep down, really horny. She wanted to have sex with her boyfriend, then, with that out of the way, spend the rest of their time together cuddling, holding hands, and being goofballs together. Every step of the way, however, today dogged her. "Man, fuck that!" she cried. She started forward, intent on breaching their barricades, but Lincoln grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She tried to yank away, but he was stronger than he looked. "Fucking pig!"

The cop glared.

"Nikki, stop," Lincoln said.

"This is bullshit," she raged, powerless to do anything else. "It's a thousand degrees out here and people are shooting at each other and this asshole won't let two kids past. Probably afraid we'll see all the dick he's sucking back there."

The cop's face hardened. Reaching across his stomach, he drew his nightstick.

Lincoln paled and dragged Nikki back. "He's not sucking any dick," he said, "he's protecting and serving the public...and doing a very good job of it."

Nodding, the cop slid his nightstick back into its loop.

Wrenching away, Nikki stalked down the middle of the street, her shoulders bunched. Lincoln hurried after. "What are we gonna do now?" she asked. "We can't go to my place, this heat is killing me…"

She trailed off and came to a stop.

"What?" Lincoln asked. "I know that look."

Nikki scrunched her lips. "Well...we can go to my grandma's house."

"Okay, yeah, sure," Lincoln said, relieved, "where is it?"

Heh. That was the thing. "On the other side of the river. Like...four miles away."

Lincoln's face fell.

"It's either that or go back to Coates Park and wait for our turn in the fountain." She grinned and elbowed his ribs. "She might even have power."

Lincoln mulled it over, then sighed. "Alright."

She held her hand out and he took it, the feeling of his fingers weaving through hers making her heart skip a beat. Her center pinched in that biologically needy way she'd come to both relish and despise, and she bit her lower lip, the cop, the roadblock, and everything else completely forgotten. "Come on," she said, "I wanna get there quick."

And she wasn't talking about her grandmother's house.

Wink.


	3. The Heat is On

**STR2D3PO: Yes, but hormones don't care.**

**Guest: This story takes place at the same time as** _**How to Lose All Your Viewers (With the Casagandes**_**), I just didn't mention the heatwave in that one...or the blackout...or anything else.**

Grandma Nikki - that wasn't really her name - lived on Pine Court, a heavily wooded dead end street six blocks back from the river in the village of Deer Creek, a bedroom community of Detroit. You could see it from some of the higher points in the city (the town, not her house); pitched roofs poking up from the forest, blue water tower, green church steeple...real pretty place. Nikki always found it strange how a place so close to a major metropolitan area could be so rural. You could see the skyscrapers, and the interstate passed through, so you always had the roar of traffic, but even so, it was easy to believe you were waaaay out in the country.

The most direct route was over the Callahan Memorial Bridge, a dizzyingly tall cantilever suspended 400 feet above the Detroit River and enclosed by a metal exoskeleton. To get there, Nikki and Lincoln left Center in favor of Market Street, which runs from one end of the city to the other, and followed it west. Before long, the smoke tapered off, and the sounds of anarchy fell behind. The lower middle class apartment blocks gave way to narrow Victorian houses with spacious front lawns and the hajji marts were replaced by high end shops, cafes, and boutiques. Their wet clothes dried in the pounding heat, becoming stiff and hard, and sweat coursed down their faces.

Almost two miles out, they crossed into Olde Towne, a quaint district defined by brick sidewalks, wrought iron lamp posts, and antiquated buildings dating back to the 1880s.

Cars passed in the cobblestone street, and police officers in orange vests stood in the middle of intersections directing traffic. Aside from them, things were almost normal here.

Someone had set up a table outside an upscale bar and a woman with red hair handed out free bottles of water. Nikki and Lincoln crossed the street, waited in line behind a crowd of people, and each got one. A battery powered radio sat atop an orange Igloo cooler with a white lid, and Nikki strained to hear over everyone talking. "_...looting east of Central, most of Central has been closed by police. Crews are working to restore power at this time but it is not known when the lights will be back on. Meanwhile, brutal temperatures above 100 have prompted the Red Cross to open relief stations across the city where residents can cool off."_

From Olde Towne, they hiked southwest along Mercer Avenue. The streets here stood eerily deserted, and nothing moved, not even the wind in the trees. "I wonder if everyone left," Nikki mused. The only person they'd come across in the last fifteen minutes was a cop on horseback.

Lincoln thought for a moment. "Probably," he said. "I would."

"Yeah, me too."

That's exactly what they were doing, though.

Both of them were red and drenched with sweat. They started off holding hands, but eventually pulled apart because it was waaaay too hot and sticky for bodily contact.

Well, she _could _stand bodily contact, but it'd have to be the real deal, you know? Anything less just wasn't worth it rn.

"Wanna play I Spy?"

Lincoln furrowed his brows and looked at her. "I Spy?" he asked, tasting the words as though they were strange and not entirely pleasant.

"Yeah, I Spy," Nikki said. "That's where -"

"I know what I Spy is," Lincoln said and rolled his eyes. "Okay, let's play. You first."

Nikki bunched her lips and looked around for something to spy. Townhouses, trees, cars parked at the curb and glinting in the sun - not much to see around here. These fancy neighborhoods were always so boring. Every once in a while, she, Casey, and Sameer rode their bikes out here and it was blah. Nothing cool happening, nothing to look at. In the hood, where she lived, something interesting was always going down. Fistfights, arguments, crazy people in sandwich boards screaming about Jesus. Out here, all you had was hipsters in man buns sucking on their vape pens. "I spy something...sexy."

"Me."

"Wow, you're really good at this," Nikki said.

He nodded deeply like taking a bow, then scanned the street. "I spy something...purple."

Purple?

Narrowing her eyes, Nikki glanced left and right, but nothing purple was in sight. Huh, he went deep on this one. She stopped, turned 360 degrees, and chewed her bottom lip. Lincoln donned a smug smile and crossed his arms. "Can't find it, huh?"

"No," she drew indignantly, "I mean, yes, I just need to keep looking."

Across the avenue, a gravel road lead between two row houses. She bent slightly forward at the waist, shielded her eyes with her hand to reduce glare, and strained as hard as she could, willing something purple to appear.

When it didn't, she sighed. "Alright, you got me, what is it?"

"That bruise on your leg."

Huh?

She lifted her right leg, and sure enough, there was an ugly purple bruise on her knee. Yo, I didn't even feel this, what happened? She thought back over the morning, from ducking to avoid gunshots at the bus station to falling out of the fountain. She could have picked it up anywhere.

Oh well. "That's not fair."

They started walking again.

"Sue it is," Lincoln said.

"No," Nikki said, "it's not. It wasn't even in my field of vision."

He lifted and lowered one shoulder. "That doesn't matter, it was in mine."

The cocky curl of his lip made Nikki want to slap and kiss him at the same time. She settled for shoving him. He stumbled, nearly went down, and caught himself. "Hey," he said and shoved her back.

"Knock it off, jerk," she laughed, "help, domestic abuse."

"Oh, please, I don't abuse you."

"Yes you do," Nikki said. "You don't remember that time you beat me up for not having your dinner on the table? You were so mad you must have blacked out."

The street curved to the right and the land flanking the sidewalk dropped away, sloping abruptly down into a thick stand of forest. The H-shaped spans of the Callahan Bridge thrust up into the sky beyond, and Nikki swatted Lincoln's chest with the back of her hand. "There it is," she said.

He craned his neck and surveyed it with the critical appraisal of a man determining the worth of a priceless gem. "Yep, that's a bridge alright."

"You know it's for sale, don't you?" Nikki asked.

Lincoln hummed. "How much?"

"All of it."

He shook his head and Nikki nudged his ribs. "You gotta stop walking into these, white head."

"I know." he said with a shoulda-known nod. "It's my fault. I never learn."

A helicopter soared overhead, going west to east, and Nikki looked up to track its movement. Smoke from a dozen fires billowed over the buildings between here and Central and Nikki frowned. She really hoped Mom and Daryl were okay.

Shit, speaking of which, she should call them.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and swiped her thumb across the screen.

It was frozen.

Uh...why tho?

Then she remembered.

The fountain.

Water and iPhones are mortal enemies, like cats and dogs and Democrats and Republicans. Any time you get the two together, bad things happen.

Nikki sighed and shoved it back into her pocket. "Check your cell phone."

Frowning in confusion, Lincoln took his phone out and unlocked it. "Frozen."

"Damn," Nikki said. "I need to call my Mom."

She was probably worried sick right now and trying to call. To be fair, it wasn't her fault, that cop didn't let them through. Either way, she was bound to get an earful when she finally did get through. "I'll just use the phone at Grandma's."

The quickest way to River Street, which connects to the Callahan Bridge, was through the pine brush below. A dusty trail between two split rail fences meandered down the hill face before disappearing into the forest. Given the steep angle, Lincoln and Nikki had to walk sideways to keep from falling. "Be careful, snow dome," she warned over her shoulder, "if the fall doesn't get you, the zombies from the pet cemetery will."

"Pet cemetery?" Lincoln asked incredulously.

"Actually, it's the Indian burial ground _behind _the pet cemetery you gotta worry about."

At the bottom, they followed the path into the woods. Treetops blocked out most of the sunlight, making it ten degrees cooler than elsewhere in the city. Bugs whined from the undergrowth, and nats danced around their heads.

"Is it safe out here?" Lincoln worried.

Nikki rolled her eyes. Dude was such a city-virgin. Is it safe? Pfft. "Of course it is, it's…"

A twig snapped behind them, and they both whipped around.

The trail was empty...then a large, shirtless man in chainmail stepped out of the bushes, an ax in his hand.

Nikki's heart sank.

"Uh...let's go."

They turned, but two more men blocked the way, one in rudimentary armor made of street signs (STOP across his chest) and the other in a homespun shirt with a long V-neck. Nikki's blood turned to ice water, and she looked left and right; men slunk through the vegetation on either side, their faces dirty and hard.

Surrounded. They were surrounded.

Another man, this one with long flowing blonde hair pushed between STOP and V-neck, and all of the men hurriedly dropped to one knee. Blondie put his hands proudly on his hips and jutted his soft, angular chin out. His features, clean and clear, were delicate and porcelain, free of sweat despite his armor. A sword in a scabbard hung from his left hip, and when he moved, his metal plating clanked.

"Oh, shit," Nikki muttered through numb lips, "I heard about these guys."

Lincoln shook like a leaf. "W-Who are they?"

One of the kneeling men cut her off. "Hark, for comes the bringer of light, the giver of good tidings, the beginning and the end: King Lyle!"

"Rouge LARPers."

Lincoln's trembling stopped like throwing a switch. "What?"

The long-haired King turned his head side to side and mugged, his beauty, and his vanity, on full display.

While he did that, Nikki told Lincoln the story. Five years ago, a bunch of guys who were into LARRPing and Renaissance fairs and stuff swore off modern life and retreated into the pine bush. They were said to live in a giant underground cave, eat squirrel and pigeon, and beset anyone who wandered onto their territory. The legends she heard had cops too afraid to go in after dark and joggers going missing every single day. She cut through here a ton of times though and nothing even happened, so she thought it was just a story.

She finished, and Lincoln shot her a crazed, wild-eyed look. "You live in a nuthouse."

"City's not that bad, dude," she said, even though it kinda was.

"THIS IS MADNESS!"

Something shoved Lincoln from behind and he staggered. "Respect the king," someone said in a gruff, fake British accent.

King Lyle looked down at him, and Lincoln smiled sheepishly. "S-Sorry."

The royal simply sneered.

We're gonna die, aren't we?

Clasping his hands behind his back, King Lyle walked around them in a slow, mocking circle like a movie villain preparing to tell the shackled hero his dastardly plan. "What business," he started in the breathy voice of a girl, "do you have in these lands?"

The others were standing again, each holding a weapon. A club here, a slingshot there, one even had a flintlock pistol. Nikki fumbled for a reply and came up blank. Oh, God, think, think, what were we doing again?

She remembered, and her vocal cords unlocked. "We're just on our way to the bridge, man, that's all, we don't want any trouble."

"Ah," King Lyle said, as though that explained everything. "The bridge, that ugly eyesore of metal and concrete." He closed one fist and scowled. "I despise that monstrous construct, as I despise everything in your vapid world. Your rap music, your reality TV shows, your penchant for taking photos of your lunch and posting them on Instagram. No one cares what your salad looks like, just shut up and eat it."

He stood over her and Lincoln, his eyes narrowed to deadly slits. "I worked sixty hours a week and yet I couldn't even afford a studio apartment. Every day, I rode the bus sixteen blocks with my face shoved in someone's armpit because it was packed. I scrolled endlessly through Facebook like a braindead fool, and everyone's innate stupidity enraged me. False controversy, political arguments...after a while, I realized something."

"W-What's that?" Nikki asked.

King Lyle pulled his lips back from his teeth. "You latter-day troglodytes aren't happy unless you're offended. You trawl the world, and even history, looking for things to be angry about. Your world is corrupt, petty, stupid, and hateful." He leaned over, and Nikki and Lincoln fell back a step, bumping into one of the other men. "Tell me why I shouldn't divorce your heads from your bodies."

Nikki licked her lips. There was no way to escape.

All she could do was appeal to his humanity. "Look, man, it's been a real bad day for me, okay? First, the power went out no one has any lights. Then -"

King Lyle's brows shot interestedly up. "The power grid hath failed?"

Nikki nodded vigorously. "Yeah, the whole town's dark. People are looting, gang wars, it's crazy."

A slow, creepy smile spread across King Lyle's face, and in one fluid motion, he drew his sword with a metically _schwing _and held it aloft. "Brothers, the outlanders have lost the advantage. Our time hath finally come. Invade the city!"

He let out a high battle cry that his followers picked up. He shoved Lincoln and Nikki out of the way, and Nikki fell to the ground with a scream. She curled up in a ball and protected her head as the war party stomped past. Their shouts and exclamations dwindled until they were gone, and Nikki sat up, casting a harried look around. Lincoln lay on his side, knees drawn to his chest and a shell shocked look in his eyes.

"I'm never coming here again," he said.

Nikki sighed. She was afraid of this.

Sudden anger clutched her chest, and she took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. The exact thing she was trying to avoid..being embarrassed...and it freaking happened.

"Don't be a baby," she said gamely and got up. "We're almost there."

"Wonder what craziness we'll encounter _this _time," he said.

As it turned out, none. Twenty minutes later, they stood at the foot of the Callahan Bridge. The highway tilted upwards, soaring above River Street and blotting out the sun, then split into two lanes divided by a concrete retaining wall. The northbound lane leading out of the city was packed with cars moving at a crawl, and the southbound lane, into the city, stood completely empty. Groups of people thronged the sidewalk flanking the northbound lane, fleeing like refuges from a warzone, and Nikki frowned. "Man, I hope she has power. I'm hot as a motherfucker."

They crossed both lanes, squeezing between cars to get by, then joined the stream of humanity. Buildings clustered below, and Nikki leaned over the railing to see. "Kinda cool how tall this thing is," she remarked.

Lincoln bobbed his head silently up and down. His face was beet red and gleamed in the sunlight. He looked like he was going to collapse, and Nikki's stomach twisted. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," he panted.

He didn't _sound _fine.

Nikki let out a pent up breath and hung her head contritely. "Look," she said soberly, "I'm sorry today went to hell. I was really excited to see you, I've been waiting so long, and...things just fell apart. I get it if you don't wanna come back, I mean...so far, the city's given you every reason to hate it. I'll come to you from now on."

She watched him from the corner of her eye: He sighed, ran his fingers through his damp hair, and swallowed with an audible click. "It's fine. Yeah, this city sucks ass, but I get to be with you, so...it's not _so _bad." He smiled warmly, and Nikki's heart swelled. She broke out in a sunny smile and took his hand.

"You're a great dude, you know that?"

Lincoln shrugged demurely. "Eh."

"No eh," she said, "I mean it."

"You make it easy," he said, "it's like, you know...you bring out the best in me."

That _really _made her smile.

By now, they were approaching the other shore, the murky river rippling beneath them. In the east, the higher buildings defining Detroit's skyline stood stark and black against the blazing sky. Smoke rose into the air and shrouded the tops of the lowest structures in haze. The sidewalk canted down, and in ten minutes, they were in Deer Creek. Houses dotted the forested hillside and narrow surface streets crisscrossed in front of them. North River Street curved away to the right and ran along the water's edge. Nikki and Lincoln followed it for two blocks, then turned up Summer Street, which climbs the hill past quaint homes with bay windows and shakes.

As they walked, Nikki looked for signs of power but didn't see any. It was still the middle of the day, so it wasn't like anyone had their lights on. She listened for the drone of A/C units, but the afternoon produced no noise save for the high, toneless buzz of summer bugs. "So, my grandma's kind of strange," Nikki explained as they ascended Hill Street.

"Oh, God," Lincoln moaned, "what now?"

"Nothing really," Nikki said. "She's mad nice, but...well, you'll see."

Five minutes later they turned onto Pine Court. The houses here were spaced widely apart. Forest abutted their backyards of ones of their left, and to the right, flashes of the river and the city were visible past a thin screen of trees. Grandma Nikki's house was the last one on the left, a tiny cottage with blue wooden siding, a gray slate roof, and a big front porch overgrown with plants, flowers, and foliage of every description. Gnomes, pink flamingos, and a gazing ball on a marble pedestal adorned the picket fence enclosed front yard, and a flagstone walk lined with bricks lead to the stairs.

The woman herself knelt over a bed of roses, clad in a denim button up shirt and a big straw hat. Something was strapped across her back, and Lincoln squinted to make it out. "Is that…?"

"An AK-47," Nikki confirmed with a nod of surrender. No matter where she turned, she was going to be embarrassed af.

Before Lincoln could ask anything else, Nikki cupped her hands to her mouth. "Yo!"

Grandma glanced over her shoulder, and when she saw who it was, her steely face softened. She got to her feet, dusted off the muddy knees of her loose fitting mom jeans, and came over. Standing close to six feet with wrinkled-creased features, thin lips, and faded blue eyes, she resembled Nikki only if you crossed your eyes. She wore her shirt unbuttoned over a floral print blouse and a Tokarev pistol on one hip and a GSh-18 on the other. She stripped off her heavy gardening gloves and tossed them aside. "Your mother _said _you were missing," she said in a light, airy voice. "I was going to put on my RPG attachment and come looking for you."

Waaay back on Central, hot, thirsty, and, idk, in despair or something, Nikki grabbed onto the concept of Grandma's House (trademark symbol) with blind abandon. Only now, at the end of her journey, did she realize something: Grandma was ten times more embarrassing than Mom and Daryl combined.

Not that that mattered right now. She was parched, achy, and tired. "They had the road blocked," she said, "so I walked here."

Grandma's hand fluttered to her chest. "All the way here?"

Nikki nodded.

"Oh, you poor things, you must be dying." She leaned over and opened the gate. "Come in, come in."

Nikki went first and Lincoln brought up the rear, his shoulders tensed as if in expectation of abmush. "It's no surprise this is happening," Grandma said bitterly as she led them up the walkway. "The capitalist power grid is one of the most fragile things on earth, right after the male ego."

Sigh.

The front door opened onto a small, cozy den crammed with highboys, knick knacks, doilies, ornamental plates, cat figurines, and an overstuffed sofa facing a television set. As soon as Nikki crossed the threshold, cool air broke over her and she let out a long, low _uhhhh_ of relief. Next to her, Lincoln slumped his shoulders, tilted his head back, and basked in the blessed A/C.

"You kids sit on the couch," Grandma said and unslung her AK, "I'll get you some some cookies and lemonade, how does that sound?"

Nikki could only grunt.

Propping the gun in a corner, Grandma disappeared into the kitchen, and Lincoln and Nikki sank onto the sofa. "That walk was so worth it," Nikki said.

Lincoln darted his eyes nervously around the room, seeming to purposely avoid the rifle lying across the ottoman. He alighted on a framed, black and white picture on the mantle and knitted his brows. It depicted a stern faced man with a bushy gray beard.

Damn. She was hoping he didn't see that.

"Hey, that guy looks familiar."

"Uh...that's my great uncle Edward."

Lincoln leaned forward, examined the picture, and gasped. "That's Karl Marx. The founder of communism."

"Pfft, whaaaat? Noooo."

Lincoln regarded her demandingly, and she sighed. The jig was up. "My grandma's a left wing revolutionary, okay?"

He let out an exasperated breath and flopped back against the sofa.

"It's cool, though, she's really chill," Nikki said quickly. "Just don't bring up politics. Or religion. Or capitalism. Or anything. And for the love of God…" she looked around to make sure Grandma wasn't in earshot, then leaned in. She widened her eyes and favored Lincoln with her best _bro, this is serious_ expression."Do not mention…" she stole one more glance around the room, then turned back to Lincoln, who stared at her with pale-faced suspense. Lowering her voice, she spoke in a spell-binding whisper: "Donald Trump. She will freak out and not stop for hours."

When Grandma called out behind them, Lincoln jumped a foot. "Cookies and lemonade! I just made them this morning."

She carried a silver tray laden with cookies and tall glasses of lemonade and sat it on the coffee table, ice cubes clinking. She picked one up and handed it to Nikki, then another and held it out to Lincoln.

He took it tentatively, as though afraid it would explode in his hand, then swallowed. "Uh, Trump you. I mean, thank you!"

Grandma cocked her head quizzically. For a terrible moment, Nikki thought she was going to say something, but she let it go and went over to her armchair, sitting with a tired sigh. Whew. Nikki wasn't joking when she said Grandma would flip. To her, Trump was literally worse than Hitler.

"As soon as I heard on the news, I dug my girls out and loaded them up," Grandma said of her guns. She picked up a mug from her end table and took a sip. MAN TEARS was written across it in bold black letters. "As soon as the Man loses control, the people rise up. The only problem is some of those people are corrupt scumbags who rape and murder. I saw the smoke. I take it there's looting?"

Nikki took a long drink of her lemonade, the cold, tart liquid wetting her sandpaper throat. "A little," she said and grabbed a cookie. "Yo, those LARP dudes? They're real."

Next to her, Lincoln drained half of his lemonade at a draught and sat it on the table. His posture was stiff and unrelaxed. Nikki laid an encouraging hand on his knee, and their eyes met. She smiled, and he smiled weakly back.

"They are?" Grandma asked, surprised. "I can't say I blame them for not wanting to live in the modern world. Not with that orange bastard in the White House." Her tone, dotty and meandering, hardened, and her grip on the coffee mug tightened.

Oh, God, please, not a political rant.

"He likes walls so much, we should put him behind one and never let him out. That Jesus Freak Mike Pence too. I can't wait for 2020. I just hope Biden doesn't get the nomination. He's no better than Trump when you get right down to it. Did you know he worked with segregationists?"

No, but I do now.

"He ought to be ashamed of himself. It's not too late for AOC to run. I really like her. She tells it like it is."

Nikki shoved a cookie in her mouth and Lincoln rubbed his knees, his strained expression telling her he'd rather be anywhere else.

Suddenly, she remembered something, and cut Grandma off mid-word. "Yo, can I use your phone? I need to call Mom."

"Oh, of course." Grandma shifted to one side, dug her phone out of her pocket, and passed it to Nikki. Nikki swiped her thumb across the screen, and the dazzling red wallpaper (with tiny yellow hammer and sickle in the upper right corner) made her wince. She went to Grandma's contacts, found Mom's number, and hit CALL.

She answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom, it's me," Nikki said.

Mom let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I was worried sick." An accusatory edge crept into her voice. "Why didn't you answer when I called you?"

"Yeah, about that, I kinda dropped my phone in water."

On the other end, Mom sighed. "Well, _that's _nice. Third phone this year."

Remember when Nikki said she was kind of clumsy? That ate up a _lot _of cell phones. She dropped her last one in the toilet, and the one before that got crushed. Like, you know how girls put their phones in their back pockets? She used to do that...then she fell off her board and landed on her butt. The moment she heard the sickening crunch, she knew.

"Sorry," she said.

Mom drew a deep breath. "I'm just glad you're okay. And...stay there, okay? I'm not even playing. Don't go anywhere."

"I won't."

"If the power isn't back on by sundown, me and Daryl are gonna come there."

"Alright."

They said their I love yous, then Nikki hit the END button and handed the phone back to Grandma. Lincoln picked up another cookie and took a bite. "These are really good," he said nervously.

"It's a special recipe," Grandma beamed. "I use only locally sourced, vegan, non GMO, fair trade ingredients."

He stared at his cookie and tried to figure out what she just said. Good luck, snow boi, I've known her my whole life and I _still _don't know what that means.

"Speaking of which," Grandma said and pushed to her feet, "I was about to go to the store. I need cumin and tumeric. Would you like to come?"

Nikki instantly shook her head. "Nah, I'm not going back out there. I'm already sunburned." She lifted her arm to prove it. Her skin was a deep shade of red and was already beginning to sting. Another patch spread across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

"Alright then," Grandma said. She went into the kitchen, then came back less than a minute later with her purse slung over her shoulder. "There are more cookies and lemonade if you want them." She started for the door, then stopped. "I better leave Gloria and Rosa here."

Lincoln arched his brows. "Gloria and Rosa?"

By way of answering, Grandma took her handguns out and sat them on the coffee table. "I named them after Gloria Steinem and Rosa Parks. Two amazing women who stuck it to the Man."

"Ah."

"Be back soon."

With that, Grandma went out the door and pulled it closed behind her, leaving them alone. Lincoln watched after her, then shook his head and chuckled. "Wow."

"Yeah, she's a trip," Nikki said. She snatched up her lemonade and polished it off, then let out a thundering belch. Grandma's cookies were the shit, but for some reason they gave her mad gas. Maybe GMO was the stuff that blocked farts and not adding it to your food made yout toot.

Setting the glass on the table, she snuggled up to Lincoln and laid her hand on his chest. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and she drew his scent into her nose. Ahhh, sour sweat with just a hint of dweeb. She looked up at him, and he grinned. "Hi," she said.

"Hey," he said.

Nikki didn't do drugs - drugs are for sad, stunted little people who can't have fun without being wasted - but she imagined the euphoria they were said to awaken in you was a pale imitation of the way being in Lincoln's arms made her feel. It was like...hmmm...there was nothing to compare it to, at least not in her admittedly limited experience. The first word that came to mind was _good_. It made her feel good, like pulling on a warm, fuzzy sweater fresh from the dryer. The second word was _right_. Lincoln fit her like a glove and when he held her, she felt safe, protected, and at peace.

Also horny.

She ran her hand slowly down his stomach and bit her bottom lip to subtly show him she was in the mood. Can't be _too _forward now, girls don't do that. We're the fairer sex, yo, and a chick who goes too hard after a dude might get called a slut.

Lincoln's breath caught when she cupped his crotch. It was full, hot, and quivered beneath her touch, sending pangs of need into her center.

So much for playing coy.

Eh, it's 2019. Girls like sex too. Get used to it.

Lincoln's dick swelled instantly against her hand, and her heartbeat sped up. He stroked his fingers through her hair and lazily grazed his nails over her scalp; electricity crackled down her spine and jolted into her middle. She brushed her thumb up and down his rapidly inflating erection and squeezed her legs together to relieve some of the pressure building in between them. Her thighs rubbed slickly together and she missed a beat. Damn, I'm wet af already.

Can girls prematurely ejaculate? Like, you know _American Pie _where Jim blows his load just from touching the hot Russian girl's pussy? Could she do that simply by touching Lincoln's junk? She saw herself bucking, shaking, and crying out with her orgasm, and Lincoln looking at her like she was nuts. _Uh, you okay?_

_J-J-Just c-c-c-cumming my b-b-brains out._

That would be humiliating.

Lincoln threw back his head and slowly, rhymically, thrust against her hand. His face was redder, his eyelids closed and rippling, ragged breaths hissing from his slightly parted lips. A hot blush colored Nikki's face and her heart slammed. With her free hand, she pushed Lincoln's shirt up, baring his smooth, creamy flesh. She placed a light, wet kiss just below his nipple, the salty taste of his skin flooding her mouth and his smell saturating her brain. She kissed him again, higher, and kneaded his bulge, smiling wickedly against his chest when he shuddered. Looks like I'm not the only one who's gonna blow her nut early.

"You boutta pop, huh?" she asked playfully.

Lincoln shook his head. "Nope. I don't cum 'til I'm ready."

"Oh, yeah?" Nikki asked and raised a defiant eyebrow.

He creaked one eye open and regarded her suspiciously. "Yeah. And I won't be ready until we're actually doing it."

Ooooh, that sounded like a challenge. She might not be the most competitive, but when your boyfriend gets too big for his britches, it's your job - nay, your _duty_ \- to bring him back down to earth.

"I bet I can make you cum before you're ready," she said, her voice inviting him to take up the dare.

He thought for a second, then cracked a lopsided grin. "Bet you can't," he said, picking up the gauntlet.

Oh, it is so on. She fumbled at the button holding his jeans closed, got it, and daintily pinched the zipper tab between her thumb and forefinger. She rolled her eyes up to Lincoln and held his gaze as she pulled the flaps deliberately apart; his contton clad tent sprang out like a jack-in-the-box, and the wild fragrence of his sex broke over her face, making her body tremble with need. She bent down and kissed the head, then wrapped her lips around it and flicked it with her tongue. He jolted, and she grinned. "Extra points if I make you do it in your undies," she said, her words muffled on his dick. She gripped the base and stroked up then down, working up enough spit to dampen the fabric and taking his head into her mouth. A shivery breath burst from Lincoln's throat and his hand went spasmodically to her head, fingers tangling in her hair. His hips rocked urgently and he tugged at her tresses, bringing tears to her eyes and turning her on even more.

She really wanted to tease him and build up to it, but screw that, she was soaked, smoldering from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head, and so thirsty she could drink a whole swimming pool. She jammed her thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, and he lifted several inches off the couch without being told to. She yanked, and his dick popped out, tall and proud and already seeping clear fluid. His masculine smell was even stronger, like dank perfume, and his incredible heat throbbed against her face, hotter even than the deadly air outside. His purple tinged head pulsed and his shaft shimmered with his essence, making her heart skip a crazy beat. All thoughts of easing into things blew away like smoke on the wind, and curling her fingers around his rod, she brought it to her lips and slowly, tantalizingly, swirled her tongue over it, collecting his beads of pre-cum like drops of dew.

Lincoln moaned and mindlessly tore at her hair and Nikki purred in the back of her throat, every rough pull making her wetter. She pressed her lips to his tip and went down slow, lapping his undercarriage and kneading the strong cord at his base with her thumb. He crazily expanded and contracted, like a fist unclenching and unclenching, and more of his essence flowed from his tip, mixing with her saliva and dribbling down his length in seering rivulets. She paused, swallowed the intoxicating mixture, and jerked down until he touched the back of her throat. He cried out and bucked against her, making her gag. She spat him out, jacked him, and looked up at him, the bliss upon his features the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She loved everything about having sex with Lincoln, from the taste of his body to the sting of him spearing her core, but what she liked most of all was putting _that _look on his face.

They say it's better to give than receive, and Nikki never quite understood that - dude, getting stuff is _waaay _better than giving it - then she met Lincoln. Sex was good, clean, physical fun, but it was also an expression of emotion. Mushy, yeah, but true nonetheless. Her love for Lincoln abided in her chest like warm wool, and every day it somehow managed to grow a little stronger. When she was with him, she never failed to find something new to love: His laugh, the sarcastic roll of his eyes when she broke out some mad BS, his smile - she suspected she could never could out of things she adored in him, even if they were married and junk for ninety years.

She gave his head a tender kiss. "I love you, Lincoln," she said earnestly.

"I love you too," he said.

She smiled into his apex, then licked it like a little girl with a lollipop. She tilted her head from side to side, nibbling it every angle, and took him in her mouth again, bobbing up and down, up and down, her wet lips gliding over his shaft. He moved in tandem with her motions, his breathing getting heavier, louder, more uneven. He dug his nails into her scap and blindly forced her down; his dick jammed against her throat and his pubic hair tickled her nose.

As much as she loved sucking Lincoln, her jaw was starting to quiver with exhaustion. She drew back until he plopped out of her mouth and stared up at him through a veil of sweaty bangs, panting for air. His taste lingered on her tongue and her pink lips sparkled with their combined juices. With every breath, the humid tang of dick rolled through her nose. Lincoln twitched like a dying bug, and she said fuck it, he was close.

Grabbing his rod, she crammed him back into her mouth and went faster than before, swishing her spit around him and lashing him with her tongue in a frenzied assault of desire. Lincoln threaded his fingers through her hair and held on for dear life, humping violently, poking the back of her throat and sending rivers of precum slithering down into her stomach like oil. She looked up at him, and their eyes locked. She slowed her pace, drew back with agonizing delay, then surged down again. Lincoln tensed and threw his head back, his hips bucking, grinding. Suddenly, he yanked her hair, and all at once, thick, warm sperm filled her mouth. Her grip tightened on his dick, and she molded her lips tight to his member to keep from spilling any. He held fast and let out a long, wavering moan.

When he was spent, she unsheathed him, snotty ribbons of cum dripping from her lips, then, pointedly making eye contact with him, swallowed every drop.

He ran his fingers through his hair and caught his breath, the haziness in his eyes lending him the appearance of a drunk. Nikki brushed her bangs out of her eyes and smirked. "Made'cha cum," she teased.

Lincoln nodded. "Alright, yeah," he said windedly, "you got me." His lips sharpened into a Chesire grin. "Now it's my turn."

Nikki laid back on the couch and Lincoln knelt between her legs, his hands roaming over her flat stomach and her chest, exploring and caressing the swell of her breasts through her shirt. Her face blazed crimson and she swallowed thickly, his taste still dense in her mouth. He bent over and kissed the side of her throat, his lips hot, moist, and light as butterfly wings. Bracing himself on the cushions, he crept lower, his hands slipping under her shirt and grazing her fevered flesh. She bit her lower lip and issued a soft, needy _uh, _the feeling of his palms kissing her flesh sending shivers down her spine. He pushed her bra up over her breasts and rubbed the heels of his hands firmly over her stiff nipples. She closed her eyes and turned herself over to nirvana, all thoughts scattering before Lincoln's expert touch.

When he sucked her nipple into her mouth, her back arched off the couch and she hummed appreciatively. His tongue circled her aching nub and his saliva sizzled on her hot skin.

Moving lower, he peppered her stomach with fleeting kisses, then lower still. He unbuttoned her jeans with the lazy relish of a man opening a present, then peeled them off and tossed them away. Next, he dragged her underwear down to her knees, freeing the source of her heat. He pulled them over her ankles and tossed them over his shoulder; they landed over a lampshade.

Nikki opened her eyes a crack and watched in suspense as he trailed kisses lower and lower. She drew her legs into an M and Lincoln hooked his arms around them. His lips skimmed her clit, and her mind scrambled with pleasure. "Uhhh," she trembled. Lincoln kissed her lips, the insides of her thighs, the slight rise of her pubis, working his way gradually, and tauntingly, back to her wet center. He licked her clit again, and she jerked as though shocked. He wedged the tip of his tongue between her folds and stroked her softest, most secret center, bringing her so close to the edge that her toes dangled over. He found her opening and traced it with his tongue. Nikki ran her hands through his hair, licked her lips, and muttered, "That feels so good," in a whispered tone.

Lincoln returned to her clit and rolled it between her lips, making her dizzy. He went faster as his passions rose, and Nikki grinded her sopping middle against his face. Something prodded painfully into her butt, and she reached into the cushions, quested with her fingers, and closed them around something hard and plastic. She pulled it out and tossed it onto the floor; the TV clicked on.

"_...a Fox News Alert. Power has been restored to the Detroit area after a near six hour blackout plunged parts of the city into chaos."_

He went faster, sucking, nibbling, and licking her clit. Fire filled her stomach and her toes curled in her socks.

Breaking from her lips, Lincoln crawled up over her, his hands planting on either side of her head. She stared up into his beautiful eyes and gasped when he sank himself smoothly into her.

Unseen on TV, footage played of King Lyle being shoved into the back of a cop car. "_Hark, for you hath no jurisdiction o'er me! My party shall prevail!" _

Nikki lifted her legs and Lincoln grabbed her ankles, pinning them on either side of her head and folding her like a taco. Her walls tightened around him and she uttered a shaky, "Oh, fuck." Their lips fuzed, and they kissed with hungry abandon, their tongues making frenetic love, the lingering taste of each one's sex combining in their mouths. Lincoln slammed deep, stirring her womb, and the scent of their excitement hung heavy in the air.

A black woman filled the screen, talking a mile a minute. "_These niggas was stealin' shit, they was shootin' at each other, actin' like they ain't got no damn sense."_

Lincoln gripped her ankles harder, and immobilized, Nikki could only lay there and take it. He was firmly in control and the fact that she could give him full power over her and trust him with it turned her on even more.

Looking mournful, a black man stood in front of the camera, his head shaking sadly. "_I missed my stories. I ain't happy 'bout that. I ain't get to see my boy Richard." _His voice broke and he pressed his lips together in an effort to keep from crying.

Flesh slapped and pangs of ecstasy rippled through Nikki's body. She was teetering, getting closer, one firm push away -

Her climax exploded in her stomach with the soul sucking force of a nuclear blast. Her entire being clutched and she cried out.. Her walls clamped down on him, and he released, filling her to the brim and overflowing her working pussy. He moaned, and lost in their ardor, they clung to each other as they rode out their mutual end.

Nikki took a moment to catch her runaway heart. "You know, snow top, it gets better every -"

"OH, MY GOD!"

Nikki's heart leapt into her throat and Lincoln jumped off of her like a cartoon character rocketing into the stratosphere. Grandma stood by the door, her hands pressed to either side of her face and a look of horror in her eyes. Lincoln grabbed a pillow at random and covered himself, and Nikki sat up, his cum gushing out of her and soaking into the cushion. She snapped her legs closed and tried to hide herself as best she could.

"Grandma," she said, "it's not what it looks like."

A dark shadow flickered across Grandma's face. Uh-oh. They were fucked. "It's _exactly _what it looks like," the old woman said tightly. She stalked forward, and Nikki cringed.

Passing them, she picked up the remote and turned off the TV. "You were watching Fox News."

Nikki and Lincoln exchanged a puzzled glance.

"Of everything you could do, Nicole, Fox News? FOX NEWS?" Spittle flew from her lips and her eyes widened in leftist indignation.

Oh, God.

"I cannot _believe _this," Grandma said, "I thought I taught you better than that. Fox News is the mouthpiece of the Republican Party and you were WATCHING IT!"

Lincoln awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"It's not like that," Nikki said, "my butt hit the remote whie we were having sex."

Grandma put her hands on her hips and puckered her lips. "Uh-huh, it just _happened _to turn on that _one _channel out of 200."

"But…"

"Not buts. You must be punished."

Nikki loved spending time with Lincoln, and savored the last three hours of their day before Grandma drove them to the bus station.

Even _if _they spent it copying passages from _Das Kapital_.


End file.
